Among Other Things
by J.M. Rowe
Summary: In an AU, Lord Rodrik of House Braeden and his three children visit Winterfell. Beautiful and fiery daughter Isobel catches the eye of many young Northernmen, including a certain brooding bastard boy. Rated T for occasional swear words, etc.
1. Chapter 1

**A.N: Hi everybody! Though I have always loved writing fictional short stories, this is my first attempt at any fan fiction, so go easy on me! Any constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. Hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I only claim my original characters. The great and powerful George RR Martin reigns supreme. (If I owned anything, I wouldn't wait tables in a bar.)**

**Summary: Set in an AU in which Lord Rodrik of House Braeden and his three children visit Winterfell. Beautiful and fiery daughter Isobel catches the eye of many young Northernmen, including a certain brooding bastard boy.**

Chapter 1

Isobel POV

A beautiful young girl with long, blonde waves sat in a carriage, trying her hardest to ignore the constant whining and endless questions coming from the child sitting across from her. Her brows furrowed as a pair of green-grey eyes stared determinately at the page of her book, willing her sister to stop talking even for just a little while. She longed for her quiet chambers back at Iredale, the home of her Lord Father. She missed the open fields with the winding streams that the Riverlands were known for. She missed running her hands through the soft, tall grass and picking wild flowers as her dog, Mia, loyally followed. True, she was excited to see the North and to meet the famous Starks, but being cooped up in a carriage for so long would make anybody long for the comforts of home. Almost there, not too much longer now, she told herself yet again. Thank the Gods.

The journey had taken two weeks, and 17 year old Isobel of House Braeden was two minutes away from knocking her sister out just so she would be quiet. She loved Elinor dearly, doted on her, really, but the younger girl was driving her mad. She hardly got any time to herself, since their mother had died when the child was an infant. At just 10 years old, Isobel had had to become a surrogate mother to her younger siblings. She looked thoughtfully out the window, and reminded herself to be patient.

Elinor resembled her elder sister only a little. Her hair was a lighter shade of blonde, lacking the caramel tones her sister's hair possessed, and she had inherited their father's light brown eyes. They had similar bone structures, though Elinor's was harder to see under the childlike roundness of her face. It was their smiles that were so similar; when they both smiled, there was no mistaking that they were of the same blood.

As if on cue, a sweet (although a little whiny) voice broke her thoughts, "Isobel, when will we be there?" She had asked a hundred times in the last two hours, and the older Braeden girl sighed, holding the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes.

"Father said about five hours when we last stopped, so I would guess maybe three more. You know, if you lie down for a nap, we'll be there before you know it." She expected an argument but to her complete surprise, the doe-eyed little girl nodded and laid her head in Isobel's lap. She absentmindedly stroked her fair hair, soothing her to sleep, looking out the window once again. Her thoughts wandered to their late mother, and a sadness took over her. She often thought of how unfair it was that she had gotten ten years with such a wonderful woman when Elinor had only gotten a few months. Lady Elayna had been as kind as she was beautiful, and all who knew her admired her strength of character and compassion. Her calm, logical demeanor had balanced out the bold Lord Rodrik perfectly. Her father was a great man, who many people adored for his sense of humor and sense of justice, but he could be irrational and act impulsively when he felt strongly about something. She allowed herself to smile as she thought of her father, and she pictured him, his beard flecked with grey and laugh lines coming in around his eyes. He had changed a bit since her mother died, he thought things through more often.

Sighing, Isobel watched the scenery slowly pass by. It was certainly different than the lands surrounding Iredale. I_ wonder what Winterfell is like and if it's as magnificent and huge as they say. They ought to have a grand library in a place that big,_ she mused, leaning her head against the glass. She was excited now that they were so close. She had never been this far north. Though her brother Benjamen had done nothing but complain about the cold, she found it refreshing. While she pictured a grand castle and grounds covered in snow, she too succumbed to sleep, ready for the long journey to finally be over.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Isobel POV

The two sisters woke with a start when they heard a rapping on their window. Isobel peeled the curtain back to see her father looking at them expectantly. He motioned for her to open the window.

"We're almost there so I wanted to make sure you two were awake and," he paused, stifling a laugh as he looked to his younger daughter, "um, presentable. Elinor, sweetling, it seems Isobel will have to fix your hair again. You look like you've been hibernating for months." The little girl blushed and looked to her big sister apologetically, who simply smiled at her and patted her bed-head.

"Not a problem, dear father. It should only take me a moment. Thank you for waking us," she gave him a small and rather tired smile, which he returned before riding ahead. She turned to her sister and laughed, smoothing her hair affectionately. She undid the simple braid gently and began re-doing it, combing her fingers through the soft curls as went. She went through all her father had told her of the Starks; Lord Eddard had served with him during Robert's Rebellion and they had been great friends. Lady Catelyn Stark had grown up with her father, since Iredale resided in the Riverlands that her family ruled over. Her brother had been a playmate of Rodrik's when they were boys.

Her father had spoken very highly of both of them back in Iredale, stating that they were truly noble, kind people, and that he had no doubt that they had raised their children to be the same.

"A rare breed these days," he had stated coolly as he sent her a sly smile, "you ought to try and get to know their oldest son, Robb. From what I understand, he has yet to be promised to anyone, and I hear he is quite the looker." Isobel rolled her eyes and sighed, giving him a small grin, though she knew he was only half-kidding. Many called her the Old Maid of House Braeden. The fact that she was 17 and had yet to be married, or even betrothed, was unheard of. At one point there had been rumors that she was hideously disfigured, or that she had eloped with a low-born, and plenty of other terrible lies. The real reason was that Lord Braeden saw no need to sacrifice his daughter's happiness for politics. He wanted her to marry eventually before she did become too old, but his daughter deserved love. So he merely teased her, encouraging her to meet and get to know young men but never forcing her into anything. Besides, he had already lost his wife, and he wasn't ready to lose Isobel just yet.

When she was finished, she looked out their carriage's window and gasped, her mouth falling open.

"What?! Lemme see, lemme see!" Elinor crawled forward hurriedly and squeezed in front of her sister. "Oh wow, it's huge! Sissy look at the towers, they're so tall!"

Isobel nodded in agreement, still looking on in wonder. She immediately thought of exploring its many halls and extensive grounds and found herself growing excited. The carriage came to a halt and Isobel took a deep breath, making sure not to let her over-eager grin show. The door opened and they were immediately hit by a chilling breeze. She was suddenly very thankful for their new, warmer dresses. The footman first helped Isobel, then Elinor out of the coach. The child grabbed her sister's hand and stayed partially hidden behind her skirts. She led her forward to stand behind their father, who was waiting along with Benjamen patiently to introduce them. She took the opportunity to get a good look at the Stark clan. _Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn, no doubt._ Followed by a handsome boy with reddish brown hair and his mother's eyes, a year or two older than her. _Lord Robb,_ she reminded herself. Next was a beautiful girl who was the spitting image of her mother and another, younger girl next to her who had all the looks of a Stark; _the Ladies Sansa and Arya. That leaves Lord Bran, and the little one has to be Rickon._ Her father stepped forward, reaching out to give Lord Stark a firm handshake before pulling him into a strong embrace. The two men laughed before separating.

"Ned, my boy, you've aged!" They both chuckled deeply, and Rodrik turned to Lady Stark, "Cat! You are as beautiful as ever, it has been far too long," he kissed her hand chastely, flashing her a large smile. He then stepped back and to the side, a large smile on his aging face. "I present to you my three children. The youngest, my dear little Elinor," he said motioning for her to walk forward. She slowly dropped her sister's hand and walked up to Lord Stark, avoiding his eyes shyly. He smiled down at her, placing a hand gently on her head.

"Hello little one, welcome to Winterfell. Your father tells me you are quite a horsewoman already," at that she looked up and gave him an eager smile, nodding quickly.

"You'll have to visit our stables then," Lady Stark chimed in, "one of our mares has just had a colt." Elinor beamed at this before stepping back to stand next to her father. He then gestured for Benjamen, and the 14 year old walked forward to shake Lord Stark's hand.

"You must be Benjamen. I hear you are an expert archer, Robb will have to show you the grounds and perhaps take you hunting."

Lord Rodrik looked proudly at his son before waiting for Isobel to walk forward, "and lastly, my eldest, Lady Isobel. She looks more like Elayna every day, does she not, Ned?"

"Indeed she does, the spitting image. You were just a babe when we saw you last. Welcome, my dear," he said quietly and she quickly curtsied to him then Lady Stark.

Cat looked upon her with kind eyes and a smile, "Lord Rodrik has informed us that you love to read. You may borrow any books you wish from the library, my husband has quite the collection."

Isobel gave her a genuine smile, "thank you my lady, I look forward to it."

They then let the children take a moment to meet each other. Elinor immediately took a liking to the elder Stark girl, and was already playing with a game little Rickon. Ben talked with Robb and Bran about hunting and blushed like a git when he kissed Lady Sansa's hand. Isobel talked with Robb, who gave her a charming smile and said he would love to take her on a tour of the grounds, and she found that she liked the stubborn, tom-boyish Arya very much. Lady Sansa was sweet, a perfect and proper lady. She insisted that Isobel would have to sit and sew with her once she got settled and suggested that they could travel into town to visit the shops. Though she hated sewing, as well as most other traditionally feminine activities, she had to admit that shopping and seeing the town sounded fun.

When at last introductions were over, Lady Catelyn announced that they would be shown to their chambers and that a feast would be held that evening in honor of their arrival. Isobel took Elinor's hand and started to lead her inside after the others, when a figure caught her eye. A young man with black curls and dark eyes leaning against the forge, away from all of them but close enough to watch. When he saw her looking, he held her gaze before nodding politely and heading off in the other direction.

_Who in the world was that, and why was he not introduced to us?_ Isobel felt a tug on her hand and shook her head, quickly going inside.

**A.N: I added more to the first chapter, describing Isobel and her family as well as their home. It was just too short for my liking. Will be posting a third chapter within another hour or so. I'm on a roll.**


	3. Chapter 3

Jon POV

He watched from the sidelines, as he always did. For as long as he could remember, Catelyn Stark had forbid him to be a part of things like this, afraid that his presence would offend the visiting lords and ladies. She despised him with everything she had in her and she made no effort to hide it; he was a constant, living reminder of her husband's infidelity. And to add further insult to injury, she looked more like Ned than any of the children she had given him, even more than Arya. She was a good and dutiful wife who loved her husband, but Cat would never forgive Ned for returning from the rebellion with him, insisting that he be raised among their own children. When it came to any other child, she was kind, comforting and wise, the very embodiment of motherhood. Yet she could not help feeling hatred towards the bastard boy.

Jon had always longed for a mother, but he learned at a very early age that he would never receive a mother's love, especially from Catelyn Stark. Though he resented her for how she treated him, he secretly longed for her acceptance. His father, uncle, and siblings all accepted him as their blood, but the Lady Stark could not. He had learned to live with it, but it still saddened him.

So he watched as Lord Rodrik Braeden rode up on his horse, followed by his son, about a dozen guards and three carriages. A young woman was helped out of the nicest carriage, followed quickly by a little girl who clung to her shyly. He watched as they all approached the Starks, introducing themselves and exchanging pleasantries. Rickon and the girl played rock-paper-scissors and chased each other, and Jon felt himself smile at the sight. He noticed Robb had his trademark, lady-charming smile as he spoke with the elder Lady Braeden. When at last everyone went inside, he stayed where he was against the forge for a little longer, not wanting to be noticed. It was then that he saw her looking at him, and he realized that he hadn't gotten a good look at her since she had arrived. Her blonde hair was loose, falling in waves over her right shoulder, and she looked at him with curiosity and slight confusion. He held her gaze just for a moment, before nodding to her and taking his leave.

Isobel POV

That night as they dined, she found herself wondering about the young man near the forge and why he was not present. It was not her place to pry, but she could not help that she was naturally curious. Perhaps he was a guest of theirs, or maybe another ward like this idiot Greyjoy who kept trying to flirt with her? She answered him like a true lady, but did not play into his game and she went on eating her dinner, deciding it was best to ignore him. Robb made polite conversation with her, asking about Iredale and if it was anything like Riverrun, the home of his grandfather. She chatted with him for a while before dinner was over and music started to play. She danced with Robb, her father, and unfortunately Theon before sitting down to enjoy a goblet of wine. She looked on in amusement as her father danced with Elinor, her tiny feet on top of his and her hands clutching his fingers. She kept looking down at their feet, trying to learn what to do. Ben had danced one number with Sansa and they were now sitting together off to the side, chatting animatedly and blushing as red as beets. He met his sister's eyes and she subtly raised her goblet and gave him smirk, which was returned with a scowl. Lady Stark soon came over to chat with her for a bit, asking how she was liking Winterfell and if she had settled in alright. A little while later she glanced over to find Elinor asleep in her father's lap and excused herself to Lady Catelyn, approaching her father and reaching her arms out for her sister. He carefully stood and handed her over, not wanting to wake his sleeping little one.

"Poor thing is completely wiped out," Ned remarked with a quiet laugh. "She should have gone to bed when Rickon did."

Her father nodded, a fond smile on his face. "She wouldn't hear anything of the sort. She hates not being a part of the festivities more than she hates going to bed in general."

Isobel left the two men to their conversation as she made her way out of the Great Hall, excusing herself quietly to everyone. She started to go back the way she came, leading to her and Elinor's rooms.. or what she thought was the way she came. Soon enough she was lost, having no idea where she was. She groaned, running a hand through her hair and looking around frantically.

"You look lost," an unfamiliar voice said. She jumped, barely stopping herself from shrieking and waking her sister. It was the boy from earlier, the one from the forge. "Forgive me if I frightened you. Do you need help finding your way?"

She looked into his dark grey eyes and nodded, smiling. He walked ahead of her to lead the way, offering to carry Elinor for her, which she happily obliged to. "Thank you, um.. I'm sorry I don't believe I asked for your name."

"Jon Snow," he said quietly, "it's a pleasure, Lady Isobel."

"Oh please, just Isobel. I'm not one for formalities. So are you a guest of the Stark's, Jon?"

He laughed quietly, though it sounded a bit sad. "Not exactly, no. Lord Eddard Stark is my father."

"Oh I see," she said quietly, realizing for the first time that he had a bastard's surname. "Well, I'm glad I got to meet you, Jon Snow. And I really appreciate you showing us the way."

He slowed down as they took another turn and she recognized the corridor where their rooms were located. She went ahead and pushed the door to Elinor's open, motioning for him to follow. He hesitated before entering and gently setting the girl on her bed. He turned to face Isobel, giving her a small smile, "it was no trouble, Lady Isobel. Goodnight."

He gave her a quick bow before turning on his heel and walking back through the door and down the hallway. Isobel tucked Elinor in before retiring to her own room, her thoughts completely occupied by Jon Snow.

"The bastard of Winterfell," she murmured absentmindedly. It was then that she decided she didn't care for the word bastard very much.


	4. Chapter 4

**A.N: Thanks to everybody who followed/favorited, and to crazychi for my very first review! I'm glad you're liking it so far. **

**Disclaimer: Again, I would not work in a bar, waiting on crabby drunks, if I owned even a fraction of anything.**

Jon POV

After he showed the Ladies Braeden to their chambers, he decided to retire to his own room. Sitting outside the Hall, wishing you could join in on the festivities, was not very enjoyable. As he changed into his nightclothes and climbed into bed, Jon thought of Lady Isobel. He wasn't sure what fascinated him so much. She was beautiful, of course, but he had seen plenty of beautiful women in his 19 years. He never entertained any fantasies due to his status; he knew his place and thought it best not to let his mind wander. Still, she occupied his thoughts. He recalled how she had looked upon him with those greenish-grey eyes, and smiled that gorgeous smile. Her expression had not been one of disdain, and when she realized he was a bastard, she still spoke to him kindly. Then there was her obvious devotion to her sister, which he found admirable. He too had a soft spot for children. _There's one thing we have in common, _he mused.

He dismissed that thought and blew out the lantern still lighting his room. _Idiot, you're getting carried away already. She's a high born, a lady. You're just Ned Stark's bastard._

Yet a small part of him still hoped he would get to see more of her.

Isobel POV

On the outside, the eldest child of Lord Rodrik Braeden played the part of a perfect lady. She sat straight in her chair and pretended to be interested in what Sansa was saying. On the inside, however, she was screaming. They had been sitting with a group of other women, sewing and trading meaningless conversation, for at least two hours. Arya had excused herself within the first 10 minutes, much to her mother's frustration. Isobel only wished she had the courage to do the same. Sansa was naïve and thought only of romance and chivalry. Though she was sweet, the girl was an airhead. Not much of a companion for someone like Isobel.

When the torture of the sewing circle was finally over, she quickly parted from Sansa's company, saying she would catch back up with her later. She decided she would like to see the library, and asked a passing servant how to find it. Isobel felt herself grow more and more excited to see the infamous library. She came upon the large double doors and quietly let herself in. What she had imagined did not even come close to what lay before her.

She felt her mouth open a bit as she took in the enormous selection; she had never been amongst so many books. Winterfell's library put Iredale, and even Riverrun's, to shame. _I don't even know where to begin! There was that novel that Benjamen recommended, and Lady Stark said there was a large section on the history of The North. I wonder if they have anything about dragons.. _Isobel's mind rambled on as she slowly entered one aisle, running her fingers along some of the spines. She took in one of her favorite scents, the smell of leather and parchment as she continued to browse and pace the aisles. When at least she was satisfied, she cradled two large books in her arms and took them to one of the tables. She had just sat down and was trying to pick one to start with, when she noticed someone observing her.

"_History of the House Targaryen_ and _The Fall of Valryia__._ Interesting choices." _Lord Robb._ She smiled, closing the cover and turning to face him.

"Yes, lately I find my curiosity is largely focused on dragons. I realized I know almost nothing about them."

"You seem to be quite the scholar, Lady Isobel. Forgive me if I have disturbed you, I was just going to ask if you needed assistance finding anything. Even I find this place overwhelming at times," he stood a respectable amount away from her, and his face bore that same charming smile. She rose from her chair and laughed slightly, feeling a tiny blush dust her cheeks.

"Actually, your father has quite a collection on the history of The North," she met his eyes before quickly surveying the library once again. "And I found something that I wished to read, but.." she paused, clearing her throat with a little embarrassment, "I couldn't reach it. Would you mind?" Robb had to grin at that, nodding his head once.

"Of course not, it is no trouble at all. Just lead me to it." He followed her to a shelf in the middle of the room and grabbed the one she pointed to. "Would you like me to help you carry them to your chambers?"

Isobel gave him a kind smile, but shook her head. "Actually I think I might stay here and read for a while. Thank you for offering, and for assisting me, Lord Robb."

"Please, it was my pleasure to help you, my Lady. Let me know if there is ever anything I can do for you. Enjoy the rest of your afternoon," he bowed before going to grab a book off a desk near the door and leaving the library. She stared at the door for a moment after he left, before heading back to her table, new book in hand. _Father was right about him being kind, and I suppose he is rather handsome,_ she sat back down, flipping to the first page of _The Fall of Valyria__. _A troubling afterthought came to her mind: _not as handsome as Jon Snow, though._

She let her mind wander to the dark haired bastard and the way his eyes often looked distant and sad. She wondered why he was not included in anything, if he lived among the Starks as one of the family. _It's none of your business_, she scolded herself. Isobel quickly pushed him out of her thoughts. She got comfortable in her chair and let herself get lost in the tome of dragons and silver-haired kings.

**A.N: I wanted her to have some more interaction with Robb rather than it always being her and Jon accidentally encountering each other. Sorry if this chapter was not up to par. It was harder for me to crank this one out. I'll do better with the next one, which might be up later today. I know it's a slow start, but bear with me! There will be action and mystery and violence soon enough!**


	5. Chapter 5

Isobel POV

_This sure is better than sewing and gossip. I wonder how long I can hide from Sansa out here. _Isobel was quite exasperated with talk of knights and chivalry, and didn't really care about the latest styles from King's Landing. She was forever indebted to the youngest Lady Stark for rescuing her before her elder sister could find her. This was a much better use of her time, and it was a lot more fun.

Arya was wild, to say the least. "Wolf-blooded" was the term she had heard Lord Stark use. She was uninhibited, bold and stubborn as a mule. Isobel thought of how she had been much like her, before her mother had passed; before she had to take on the responsibilities of being the Lady of the house. Isobel envied her freedom, and admired her attempts to break the rules set by her gender. Arya had no desire to be a proper little lady and get married off to some Lord she had never met; another thing they had in common.

When she could get away with it, Ned Stark's youngest daughter wore breeches and tunics instead of dresses. She preferred to wear her dark hair in a simple braid rather than the elaborate hairstyles that were in fashion, and would often sneak away from her lessons to practice archery, or ride her horse. Today was one of those days. Isobel knew how to shoot, but was out of practice, so she listened intently as Arya gave her a few tips. She watched her form, impressed with how well she shot, before giving it a try.

"Remember, don't hunch your shoulders. Keep them back and hold your head up straight." Isobel did as she said, fixing her form before taking a deep breath. She let an arrow go and watched as it sunk in to left side of the target.

"Pretty good," Arya complimented her, "but I think your footing is what caused it to veer left like that. You're standing kind of pigeon-footed. Try again, but keep your feet parallel and square with your hips."

Again, she followed her advice and prepared another arrow. She exhaled sharply through her nostrils and released it, smiling proudly as it hit just off the center.

"Much better," the young Stark said to her with a grin.

It was then that they realized they were not alone. Lord Robb and Jon Snow were now approaching them from across the yard.

"Nicely done, my lady. Arya, you should be proud that your pupil has improved so quickly. But don't forget who taught you everything you know," Robb joked as he put a hand on his sister's shoulder. "Mother is looking for you, and she is not very happy. Better run back to your lessons before she really gets angry."

The petite girl let out a groan, her face settling into a scowl. She handed her bow and quiver to Jon before stomping back inside. Isobel let out a quiet laugh as she watched her retreating form.

"She's quite something, isn't she?" Jon said, a certain fondness in his tone. In the week that Isobel had been visiting Winterfell, she noticed that Arya and Jon were particularly close, more so than she was with her other siblings.

"Our little she-wolf," Robb added with amusement. He turned to Isobel, giving her a small grin. "How are those books you borrowed? I hope you found everything you needed."

"Oh yes, I already finished the three you saw me with that day in the library. Very interesting," she grinned sheepishly. "I'm now reading a novel my brother wanted me to try, as well as something Lord Stark recommended."

She saw Jon raise his eyebrows, but he said nothing. Robb did the same, whistling in astonishment.  
"My, when you said you were an avid reader that was no jest." Isobel suddenly felt a little embarrassed, as she always did when someone complimented her. They were suddenly joined by Bran, Theon and her brother Benjamen, who all had bows and a quiver of arrows. She did not like the look that Theon gave her, though he probably thought he was being subtle. Nobody else seemed to notice.

Bran spoke first, "Good day, Lady Isobel. Are you ready, Robb? We should get going before it gets too late."

"Ah yes, of course. We're going hunting, and I'm afraid I have kept them waiting for quite some time," he explained to Isobel. "If you'll excuse us, my Lady." Robb, Theon and Bran took their leave, but not before Greyjoy gave her his trademark smirk. A large part of her wanted to smack it off his face. She failed to notice the scowl that Jon sent him once his back was turned.

Benjamen stayed behind and spoke quietly to his sister. "I informed father yesterday that I was going with them, but you might remind him in case he forgot. You should really try and spend some time with Elinor today, I think the poor Septa is at her wit's end." She nodded, patting his shoulder with a smile.

"Alright Ben, thank you. Be safe!" He rolled his eyes at that and took off after the others. Isobel sighed, hoping he would heed her warning and take care of himself.

Only Jon Snow remained there with her, Arya's bow still in his hand. She looked at him with curiosity, her blonde brows furrowing a bit. "Aren't you going?"

He shook his head, still watching the retreating forms of the four Lords. She cursed herself for opening her big mouth, knowing she should not have asked. He spoke in that quiet tone he always seemed to use, "no, I very rarely go along on hunts."

An uncomfortable silence settled between them, and Isobel suddenly felt very cold. She shivered and wrapped her thick cloak tighter around her shoulders, which didn't go unnoticed by the dark haired young man. "If you're feeling cold, perhaps I should accompany you inside." She gave him a small smile of gratitude before they headed back into the warmth that Winterfell provided.

**A.N: Not very eventful, which is why I'm going to try and post something more interesting tomorrow, but no promises. I'm having a bit of writer's block plus I want to get plenty of character development in before all the drama comes. Feedback is really helpful, so if you have any tips or ideas for the story please do not be shy.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A.N: Wow, 15 followers! Thank you so much everybody! I'd like to thank crazychi, Kalani308 as well as the guest who left a review for their encouragement and very helpful feedback! The general consensus seems to be that I make chapters longer, which is definitely what my goal was.**

**crazychi, you make a good point about Theon and I 100% agree about not taking it further. It was just to establish **_**why**_** Isobel doesn't like him, which might come into play later. I'm glad you are enjoying it and I can't thank you enough for all your responses and help.**

**Kalani308, don't you worry, her and Jon will definitely be spending some time together this chapter! And as for your suggestion about Ben, I can say that I sort of took it, in a sense. You'll see what I mean. **

Isobel POV

Isobel sat in the Great Hall along with Benjamen, both of them deeply engrossed in their books. Occasionally, one would glance up to check on Elinor and Rickon, who were playing a game of cards at a table nearby. The occasional servant would wander in to grab something or to pass through, but other than that they were left to their own devices. Lady Catelyn had taken her daughters into the Godswood to pray and Lord Stark had asked his oldest sons, her father and Theon Greyjoy to accompany him to Greywater Watch, the home of Lord Reed and his family. From what Robb had told her, it was the southernmost house that was sworn to the Stark family, and they would be gone about a week. Thankfully, Benjamen had reluctantly agreed to stay behind in case his sisters needed him, so she still had somebody to talk to. He was bored out of his mind without Bran and Robb around, and she knew he was upset with their father for making him stay, but she was still glad he was there.

The sound of the large Hall doors opening startled her from her thoughts, and they both looked up to see Jon Snow coming towards them. Isobel, who had been lounging with her feet up on the chair next to her, quickly dropped them and turned to sit like a proper lady, a blush staining her cheeks. Ben barely contained a snicker, raising his eyebrow at her with a grin.

"Sorry to disturb you both, but I thought I might check on Rickon and make sure he was behaving himself, since Lady Stark is away for the day," he turned to look at the little boy, who frowned at him, perturbed that his behavior would be called into question. Jon smiled and turned back to Ben and Isobel, "it seems he and Lady Elinor have become quite fond of each other. Well, as long as he isn't bothering you, I suppose I'll leave him be. If you'll excu-"

Ben stood, interrupting him as he was about to excuse himself, "actually, Jon, I was about to take him and my little sister out riding, since they've been cooped up in here all day. I figured they could use the fresh air," he smiled cheekily, glancing at his elder sister.

Isobel turned to look at him, her face seemingly surprised, though Ben would know better; she was glaring at him. She knew exactly what he was up to. Her voice was clear and calm, but to her brother it was laced with venom, "I don't know, Benjamen. It might be a little cold for Elinor, you know how she gets. And don't you think you should make sure Lady Stark is alright with you taking her son with you?"

Rickon and Elinor had left their card game and came running over at the news, ecstatic with the possibility of a ride. The youngest of Rodrik Braeden's children clung to her sister's hand, her brown eyes wide and begging, "please let us go, Isobel! I promise I'll bundle up warm with plenty of extra clothes! I haven't gone riding since we left home!"

Rickon chimed in next, looking to his half-brother then her, "oh my mother won't mind, really! Bran and I go riding by ourselves all the time, and Ben is older than he is!"

She pursed her lips, knowing she should let them have their fun, cursing her brother. He knew she could never say no to them when they begged like that, their faces bright and hopeful. She sighed, placing her hand on Elinor's shoulder, "ohhh alright! I suppose if Lady Stark would be fine with it, I have no objections. But bundle up! I do not want you catching cold, Elinor. You too Rickon!" The two children nodded and hollered excitedly, dashing out of the Great Hall to do as she said. Ben turned to first Jon then her, smiling slightly, "I suppose I shouldn't keep them waiting. Good day Jon, sister." He walked quickly to the doors, and left, but not before poking his head back in, "oh, and since you're almost done with that one, you should take a trip to the library. Maybe Jon has some suggestions for you!"

And then he was gone, a pair of greenish grey eyes glaring at where his head had just been; she was going to kill him the next time they were alone. _Little shit._

Jon too stood looking at where Ben had just been, and he cleared his throat, reminding Isobel that he was still there. She stood slowly, and he turned to face her, "would you like me to accompany you to the library, Lady Isobel? I'm quite a reader myself, so I could show you some of my personal favorites."

She nodded, "I would appreciate that very much, though I must ask you for the hundredth time to simply call me Isobel."

"Very well. Shall we then, Isobel?" Picking up her skirts, she followed him out of the Great Hall.

When they reached the library, she couldn't contain a sigh of happiness. Isobel could have lived in that room and been completely content. Jon smiled softly as he watched her eyes wander the room with a certain fondness. _She really does love books_, he thought in amusement.

He walked over to a shelf tucked into the front corner, his eyes browsing the spines of the books quickly before he plucked one out, handing it to her. "Here's one you might like; it's about Nymeria, the warrior princess of the Rhoynar."

"Isn't Arya's dire wolf named Nymeria?"

Jon laughed, "yes, she is. I told Arya to read this and she has idolized her ever since."

Isobel laughed along with him, taking the book and tucking it under her arm. He showed her a couple others, giving her brief backstories for each. Jon suggested they take a walk around the castle and they continued to talk, though it was mostly her telling him about Iredale and the other places she had visited. Ghost had at some point joined them, loyally following several paces behind them. The two teenagers had become fast friends, and the beautiful blonde hadn't noticed that he had hardly taken his eyes off her the whole time that she spoke.

It was a few hours later, and they were outside, leaning on the fence as Isobel stroked the soft fur of Ghost's neck, when Lady Catelyn approached them. Isobel turned to greet her with a smile, but the red haired woman's eyes were not on her, but Jon; she did not look pleased to see him. It was then that she turned to Isobel, giving her a strained smile. "Hello, Isobel. I trust that your afternoon is going well?"

She nodded, glancing at Jon who had grown very quiet, "yes, very well, Lady Stark. Jon was kind enough to keep me company while Benjamen took the children for a ride," she paused, her face apologetic, "I hope it's alright that he took Rickon with him, he assured us it would be no issue."

Catelyn nodded, "yes, they just returned half an hour ago. I do not mind, and I trust Benjamen to look after him. I came to inform you that my husband's business with Lord Reed did not take him as long as he had anticipated. They will be returning to Winterfell the day after tomorrow. We will be having a feast the next evening to celebrate their return," she paused, her focus now on the dark haired bastard. "My Lord husband has requested that you attend as well, Snow," her voice was soft but the disdain was easily detectable.

He nodded once, his lips set in a tight line. Lady Stark then excused herself and went back inside. They were both quiet, and Isobel for once, had very few words.

"She shouldn't treat you like that," she finally said after some time. Jon said nothing, not wishing to explore the subject further, before excusing himself. "Your brother and sister are probably looking for you, perhaps you should go find them. If you'll excuse me, Lady Isobel."

Her eyes followed the young man as he quickly walked away, her expression sad. She did not see him for the rest of the day, nor the day after.

* * *

Isobel stood outside the Great Hall alongside her father and siblings two days later, nothing short of a golden-haired vision. Sansa had requested a new dress be sewn for her without Isobel's knowledge, and to her complete surprise, she absolutely loved it. Rather than the usual greys and blues the Stark ladies were known for sporting, this dress was a light forest green color. It came off her shoulders just a bit and had a golden pattern stitched across the neckline. The thick material cut off at her elbows and a sheer fabric had been sewn on to finish the sleeves. The golden pattern had also been sewn into her skirt, decorating the hem and going up to about knee length on the front. She thought back to when Sansa had given it to her the day before.

"I wanted it to match your eyes, though this is still a bit too dark. I picked the fabric myself," she had beamed to her, "and I thought the golden embroidery would match your hair. Do you like it?"

"Oh Sansa, I love it! It's beautiful! You didn't have to do this for me," Isobel exclaimed, wrapping the Stark girl in a tight hug.

"Don't be silly," she replied when they separated, giving her a large smile, "I wanted to! You are our guest and my friend and besides, now you'll have something new to wear to the feast tomorrow!"

Though they were very different people, and the younger girl was naive, Isobel adored Sansa for her kind heart and gentle demeanor. She felt guilty for avoiding her that day she had gone to practice shooting with Arya.

When a servant opened the doors for them, she entered the Hall arm in arm with her father. "You look very beautiful, sweetheart. You remind me of your mother, back when I first met her." He kissed the top of her head chastely before going to greet Lord Stark, patting him on the back.

Sansa was the first to approach them, squealing quietly as she took Isobel's hands in hers, "I knew you would look gorgeous in that dress! I am so glad you like it!"

She smiled and gave the auburn haired girls hands an affectionate squeeze, "I cannot thank you enough for it, Sansa. You look stunning as well, doesn't she Ben?" She grinned at her brother, who blushed madly.

He cleared his throat, "yes, you look quite lovely, my Lady." Sansa smiled shyly, saying her thanks before leading Isobel to where the rest of the young Starks sat. Isobel noticed that Jon was in fact present and felt her heart lurch a bit. She sent him a small smile, which he returned, before taking a seat on Sansa's right, across from Jon. Arya nudged him playfully when the others weren't looking and he slapped her arm away, glaring down at her. Robb too noticed the exchange and raised his eyebrows at his half-brother, who would not meet his gaze. He and their sister both had to contain their snickers.

Robb complimented her, saying she looked very pretty, and little Rickon followed his lead and said the same to Elinor, which the older children all found quite amusing. Everyone exchanged pleasant conversation throughout dinner. Isobel often felt Jon looking at her, but she could never catch his gaze. He would look down to his plate or turn to one of his siblings, to her slight frustration. When the servants cleared their plates away and the music picked up, the real festivities started. Sansa managed to drag both her and Arya out onto the dance floor, and she wouldn't get to sit down for the rest of the night. She danced with her brother, father (who was quite drunk), Elinor, Robb and Bran, laughing as they all joined hands and went around in a circle. Elinor was struggling to keep up, so Isobel scooped her up and put her on their father's shoulders as she continued to dance, kissing her cheek lovingly. She was having so much fun that she was completely unaware of the dark eyes that bore into her from across the room, taking her in as she laughed and danced among his siblings and hers.

Jon POV

He saw her as soon as she entered the Hall with her family, and watched as Sansa went forward to greet her. She was gorgeous, the most beautiful sight he had ever seen, in a dress that reminded him of her eyes. She flashed him a small smile as she took the seat opposite to him, and he swatted Arya's arm away as she elbowed him in the ribs. Robb also gave him a teasing look but he refused to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging it. He gritted his teeth as they barely held in their snickers. All throughout dinner he couldn't help but glance at her every now and then, and he knew both Robb and Arya were watching him by the smug looks on their faces. After dinner, he stayed at the table to finish his wine and watched them all as they danced, though his eyes mostly stayed on her. He felt a tug on his heart when he saw her kiss her sister's cheek with affection; he loved the way she doted on Elinor, acting as the mother the poor child had never had. _Whoa, wait, what? What am I thinking?!_ He didn't notice when Robb returned to his seat, facing Theon Greyjoy who also still sat at the table.

He spoke just loud enough for Jon to hear, a large grin on his handsome face. "Oi, Theon, you'd think he'd find something else to look at, huh?"

Ned Stark's ward matched his friend's expression, nodding as he joined in the teasing. "Tell me about it! Seven Hells, Jon! Quit sitting here twiddling your thumbs and go ask her for a dance, you git!"

Jon turned to them with a slight scowl, shaking his head, "that wouldn't be appropriate, and you know it."

Theon spoke again, putting and arm on the table and leaning closer to him, "and why not? Catelyn's gone with Rickon, off to bed! Nobody else will object. If you don't ask her, I will, and then you really won't have any chances left!"

"Come on, Jon, act like a man!"

He sighed, turning around to glare at them heatedly, "If I ask her to dance, will you two shut it?!" They looked at each other first before nodding. He sighed, rising from his seat and leaving them, their laughter reaching his ears as he walked away. He approached her as she stood with a goblet in hand, leaning against a wall and speaking with Sansa and Arya animatedly. Her cheeks were flushed a pretty pink from all the dancing and she stroked Elinor's hair with her other hand. He cleared his throat as he approached them.

Arya spoke first, smiling at her brother with mischief in her eyes, and he sighed quietly to himself. _Apparently Robb has already gotten to her. _"Jon! There you are! I was wondering when you would grace us with your presence." Sansa smiled at her half-brother before sneaking off to talk to Ben, taking Elinor's hand and leading her away as well. _He even got to Sansa. Fantastic. _

"I was just telling Isobel how much I liked her dress that Sansa had made for her. Doesn't she look nice, Jon?" _You little liar. You completely hate dresses._

"Yes, you look very beautiful indeed, Isobel." She blushed at his compliment, giving him a small smile as thanks. Arya grinned, making some excuse that she needed to find Bran before scurrying away like the others. They were left alone, her still leaning against the wall and him standing straight as an arrow with his hands clasped behind his back. He wanted to die, when the music slowly picked back up, the musicians apparently no longer needing a break. _What a coincidence, _he thought as he could have sworn he saw Bran bolting away from where the head musician sat.

"Would you, um.. care to dance with me?" She smiled in surprise, setting her almost empty goblet down on a table and nodding, letting him lead her away. His father sent him a look from his spot at the table, visibly shaking with quiet laughter along with Robb, who had gone to sit next to him. A large part of Jon hated them at that moment.

Sansa had managed to get Benjamen to ask her to dance, and Bran was patiently dancing with a very tired Elinor, who was still too stubborn to go to bed. He faced his beautiful dance partner, whose green-grey eyes were fixed on him intensely. He felt bare under her gaze, as if she could see through him completely. She flashed him a smile, silently willing him to relax and not be so stiff.

He looked down at her as he led her, smiling in his soft way. "You really do look beautiful, you know."

She blushed and looked away from his eyes, causing his smile to widen. How could somebody so bold and unflinching be so shy at the same time? They danced along with their respective siblings, laughing and twirling away. When the song was over and everyone wandered off to catch their breath, her hand lingered in his if but for a second.

"Goodnight Jon," she said quietly before leaving to take Elinor's hand and at last take her to bed.

They failed to notice the eyes of Lord Braeden watching their subtle exchange, whose drunkenness had worn off some time ago.

**A.N: Phew! I'd say over 3000 words is definitely quite a bit longer! And so the romance at last starts to blossom! W****asn't that cute? I hope you guys like it! Did I keep everyone in character ok? I crave your feedback!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A.N: Over 20 followers in the first week, I never thought that would happen! Thank you to everybody who left me a review, reading your kind words makes me smile. I'm glad you're enjoying it!**

Isobel POV

Two days after the feast, the oldest child of House Braeden was lounging in an armchair. Her hair was loose, as usual, and she was wearing a simple, dark blue gown, leisurely reading the last several pages of _Nymeria of the Rhoynar. _Elinor had caught cold, likely from running around Winterfell without a cloak, and Maester Luwin had ordered her to stay in bed and rest for the day. Isobel, knowing she would wander off if not supervised, decided to keep her company after she ate lunch, though she was about at her wit's end. Just when she had started to relax, the whining commenced.

"Isobel, I'm _bored_! I want to go play with Rickon!"

The blonde beauty sighed, closing her book and setting it in her lap, "you heard the Maester; you are to stay in bed. Besides, you would only get Rickon sick as well. Perhaps next time you will listen to me and bundle up before playing outside all day." The seven year old huffed, her face settling into a scowl.

An idea suddenly came to the older girl, and she smiled, leaving her chair to sit on the foot of Elinor's bed. "How about a story? That always cheers you up," and at that, the little girl brightened, nodding eagerly. She improvised a tale of dragons, a warrior queen and a handsome knight with stormy grey eyes. Benjamen joined them not long after she had started, quietly leaning against the wall next to the bed, listening to his sister's story. Elinor's eyes started drooping and her yawns became more frequent, so she decided to wrap up the makeshift tale.

"So the warrior queen and the handsome knight battled the evil dragon. And when they defeated it, they both returned home to their families, who were overjoyed to have them back, safe and sound." When she was finished, Elinor had succumbed to sleepiness, and the elder two siblings left her to her nap. When they were out in the hallway, Ben turned to her and grinned cheekily.

"_A handsome knight with stormy grey eyes_, huh? Seems familiar."

Isobel scoffed, turning to walk ahead of him and making her way down the corridor. "I have no idea what you mean, little brother. It was a children's story that I made up, simple as that. "

Benjamen quickly caught up to walk beside her, a smirk that she knew all too well on his handsome face. Her brother was almost an exact replica of their father, but he looked like him more than ever in that moment. His voice was light and teasing, "If you say so, dear sister."

It was later, when she sat alone in her chambers, that she allowed herself to admit that her brother was right. Her mind wandered to Jon Snow, and the night of the feast; the way he kept looking at her during dinner, how their hands had lingered after their dance, and how his eyes never left her as she left the Great Hall. Oh how she admired those dark eyes..

_What?! No, no, stop that! Jon's a friend, nothing more. _She tried to focus on something else, anything else, but the young man with the black curls still occupied her thoughts.

"_You really do look beautiful, you know."_

She heard him say it over and over again in her mind, and she let out a frustrated groan, placing her face in her hands.

_Who am I kidding?_

Jon POV

It was late in the evening, and he was sitting in the Great Hall with Robb, half-heartedly trying to read a book about the Free Cities. His thoughts kept wandering to Isobel, and the other night at the feast; how beautiful she had looked, the way her eyes danced with such fire and intensity, and how her hand had lingered in his for just a moment. Truth be told, it was all he had been thinking about since.

He would admit only to himself that somehow, in three short weeks, the brooding Bastard of Winterfell had started to fall for Lady Isobel of House Braeden. Of course there was the obvious matter of her beauty, but it was so much more than that. She was headstrong and passionate, yet she possessed a sense of kindness and compassion that almost seemed inhuman. She was bold and fearless, but shied away at the smallest compliment, blushing as red as a rose. She was a walking case of contradictions and she made absolutely no sense to him at all.

And Gods, was she smart. Much smarter than him or anybody else he knew, except perhaps his father.

He wasn't really sure when it had started; perhaps that day he had shown her around the castle, or maybe even the time he had watched her shoot with Arya, but their dance at the feast had sealed his fate. He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair in exasperation; _what have you gotten yourself into? _

The teasing voice of his brother interrupted his musings, "Jon, watching you think so hard is making my head hurt." He looked up when he heard his name, meeting Robb's amused gaze.

The auburn haired young man smirked, exhaling a heavy sigh and shaking his head. "Go find her, idiot. You know you want to." Jon opened his mouth to protest, but closed it with a grunt, knowing it was useless to argue with Robb. He snapped his book shut and tossed it at his brother's chest before storming out of the Hall. Despite Robb's teasing, he had honestly intended to just go up to bed. Or at least that's what he told himself. He was rounding a corner quickly, his brow furrowed while he was deep in thought, when somebody squeaked and ran straight into his chest. Jon's large hands automatically grabbed onto slim shoulders as they stumbled and tripped over their own feet.

It was then that he realized this person had a familiar head of blonde waves and green-grey eyes.

_Of course I would run into her. _Slowly, he dropped his hands back to his sides, grinning at her clumsiness. "Isobel, are you alright?" She nodded, giving him a nervous smile.

"Yes, I'm fine. I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention. I was, um, reading," he looked down at her feet and saw _Nymeria _lying face down on the floor.

"You must really be liking it if you read even while walking." He bent to retrieve it for her, rising back up slowly with the book in his outstretched hand.

They were standing closer than before. Her eyes met his, and he observed how the flames from the torches danced in them. His own dark grey eyes studied her face, from her hair line down to her lips. "Thank you," she said quietly as she took the novel in both hands, her fingers brushing over his. He was staring down at her with such intensity that she felt her cheeks warm, but she stubbornly forced herself not to look away. Isobel's blonde brows furrowed, as if asking him just what he was looking at. Hesitantly, he took a step forward, taking note of how her breath hitched. Again, he was reminded of the fact the she could be audacious and confident one minute, and then nervous and shy the next.

"You should really be more careful. I don't want you to get hurt." He spoke softly, huskily. The tone of his voice made her heart race. Jon brought his calloused hand up to her face, his thumb lazily stroking the smooth surface of her cheek. He looked conflicted, as if he were struggling with something. _Think about what you're about to do.._

But he didn't. Before he could listen to the voice in his head yelling for him to back away, he brought his lips to hers.

He could sense that Isobel was surprised, but she easily melted into his kiss. She placed her feminine hands lightly on his shoulders and stretched up onto her toes. It was gentle and sweet, and over far too soon for either of their liking. He pulled away, grey eyes searching her face.

"Jon.." she managed to breathe, his name barely coming out as a whisper.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have do-"she cut him off, bringing her lips back to his for a chaste kiss. She smiled, giggling softly at his bewildered expression.

"Don't be sorry."

Isobel POV

When they had finally bid one another goodnight, she returned to her chambers, her fingers often reaching up to brush her lips. She reflected on her kiss with Jon dreamily, humming a cheerful tune as she brushed her hair.

Isobel Braeden had only kissed one boy in her 17 years, and you could hardly call it a proper kiss. When she was 12, a friend of her father's, a man from House Dayne, visited Iredale with his family. He brought his 13 year old son with him, and the two adolescents had spent the visit wandering the castle and roaming the lush fields. The last day of their visit, they had been in the stable, petting the horses. She turned around to say something and he leaned in and pecked her right on the lips. It had been so quick and took her completely by surprise. When she recovered from her initial shock, she had put her hands on his chest and pushed him, yelling at him to hide her confusion. They left the next morning, and a few months later her father informed her that he had been betrothed to a girl from Highgarden; she never told anyone how much it had devastated her.

But this had been nothing like that time. He was nothing close to a nervous 13 year old boy, but a grown man. And Seven Hells, that man could kiss.

She had continued to hum as she pulled the comb through her thick blonde waves, when there was a knock at her door. "Come in," she called gleefully, smiling happily at her father when he entered her chamber. "Oh, hi Papa. I didn't realize you'd be coming to speak with me," she turned her attention back to her reflection.

Lord Rodrik shut the door behind him, moving to stand behind where she sat at her vanity. "Can't a man say goodnight to his children once in a while?" He sounded cross but he was smiling, his eyes bright as he eyed his daughter curiously. "I notice you're humming. You only hum when you're very, very happy."

Isobel shrugged, meeting his gaze through the mirror, "why shouldn't I be happy, Papa?"

He raised an eyebrow at her, shaking his head, "oh no, I know you better than that. Is there something you wish to tell me?"

She set her brush down, turning in the chair to face her father. Her eyes wandered over his features; he was undoubtedly Benjamen's father, there was no questioning that. Light brown eyes with dark, bristly lashes, and an unruly mop of chestnut brown hair crowned his head, still as thick as it had been in his youth. His beard had started to show the slightest flecks of grey, and he had laugh lines around his thin mouth. She recalled celebrating his 40th name day that year, and realized that her father had grown older before her eyes, yet she had never noticed.

"Why would I hide something from you?"

He snorted at that, "so nothing in particular has you grinning so hard it looks like your cheeks hurt, and _humming_?"

She exhaled noisily and rolled her eyes, "no, father."

He crossed his arms and smirked, looking very pleased with himself. "Oh really? Are you sure I didn't just see a certain young bastard kissing you in the corridor?" Her eyes went wide and all the color drained from her face; she looked positively horrified. Rodrik smiled, leaning forward to kiss his daughter's brow with affection.

"We'll talk about it later. Good night, my little dove." And then he was gone, leaving her alone to deal with her mortification.

**A.N. Oh geez I feel like that was so cheesy. Don't hate me for it, I have very little experience with kissing boys. I did my best.**

**This didn't turn out quite to my expectations, and it's a lot shorter than the last chapter but still longer than the others. What did you think of her dad's reaction? Does it seem realistic to you, given his character? Should he be upset with her and/or Jon?**


	8. Chapter 8

**A.N: So I had a really hard time deciding where to take this after last chapter. With this one I did a lot of backtracking, adding things in randomly and out of order. But, I am really satisfied with it and I hope you guys like it. Thanks to kalani308 for last chapter's review!**

Isobel POV

Following that evening in the corridor, Lord Rodrik's oldest child and the Bastard of Winterfell spent as much time together as possible over the next few weeks. At first, they had tried to behave platonically. But eventually, one of them had stolen a kiss from the other in the library. And in the stable, and behind the forge, and outside the Great Hall after dinner. Both of them were ignoring the fact that they could never be together due to their differences in status. For now, they were happy.

After breaking her fast with her family, Isobel decided to spend her morning going on a ride with Arya. The tiny Stark girl had managed to sneak away from her lessons again, and so far her mother had not come looking for her. _Perhaps today she'll let her be._

They had saddled their horses and taken their leave, and so far had enjoyed a very comfortable silence. That was what she liked most about Arya.

In the near two months the Braedens had been at Winterfell, Isobel had grown very fond of both the Stark sisters. She adored Arya's wild spirit, and though she still had many of the awkward traits of childhood, she knew the small girl would grow into a lovely young woman. She had the long face and slate-grey eyes of her father's family, and her thick dark hair fell in unruly waves when she let it down. It might not be obvious now, but Isobel knew that when she matured, she would be a true northern beauty. Not that that mattered to Arya.

After a good quarter of an hour, the younger girl spoke first.

"I asked Jon to come with us, but he said he'd be busy talking with my father and uncle Benjen all morning."

Isobel smiled, shrugging her shoulders, "it would have been nice if he had come, but I understand he had things to attend to."

Arya stayed quiet for a moment, appearing to be in thought. "Still, I want to spend as much time with him as possible, before they leave."

The Braeden girl froze, pulling her horse gently to a stop. "Leave? Who's leaving?"

Slate grey eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed in confusion. "Jon, and my uncle. They're leaving for The Wall in a week." She noted that Isobel's eyes were wide with shock, and she cursed herself for saying anything. She had assumed he would have told her by now. _Dumb ass._

She was silent for a long time, not sure of what to say. Finally, she turned her attention back in front of her and coaxed her horse back into a trot. "Oh. Well that's very noble of him."

They spent the rest of their ride in silence, though it was far from a comfortable one.

* * *

It was early in the afternoon, three days later, when she finally saw him. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't avoid Jon forever. Winterfell was big, but not that big.

After they spent some time sewing, she had told Sansa she wished to have some time to herself. The younger girl was notably disappointed, but assured the blonde that she understood. Isobel decided she would finally like to see the wilderness surrounding Winterfell, and after wrapping herself in a warm cloak, left the castle. She was making her way past the forge when she noticed two men standing closely together and speaking quietly; it was Jon, and a man she now knew to be his uncle Benjen Stark. She quickened her pace, hoping to the Seven that he would not notice her. As expected, the Seven did not answer her prayer.

Jon's eyes fell on her and he froze if but for a few seconds, before turning back to his uncle, nodding along with what he was saying. Though it had been fleeting, she had felt his gaze. Isobel walked even faster, weaving through Winterfell and heading towards the Godswood.

The beautiful blonde stood before a huge Weirwood tree, gazing up at the thick mass of red leaves, when she heard footsteps approaching from behind. The crunching of the leaves and twigs on the ground stopped, but she did not turn around to face her companion. Neither of them spoke for a long time, and she might have forgotten he was there had his deep voice not finally reached her ears.

"You've been avoiding me," he said flatly. It wasn't a question, and she had no intention of denying it. When she didn't answer his lips tightened in hindrance. "I take it somebody told you, is that it?" Isobel continued staring at the tree, too stubborn to even acknowledge that he was there. He sighed, turning his head to stare off into the vast forest. Another long silence passed between them. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was going to The Wall. I should have told you. I just.. couldn't."

She slowly spun around to stare at him, her eyes wide with ire and her brows knitted together in frustration. She didn't know why she was angry with him, taking The Black was an honorable thing for a man to do, and people like Jon didn't have many other options. Yet she couldn't shake her anger.

"You couldn't tell me? You've had two months to tell me, Jon!" She marched forward several feet so that she was standing close to him, their chests nearly touching. His dark eyes bore down into hers, and she saw a cold fire that had never been there before.

"What difference does it make?" He scoffed, his frown deepening.

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, "I still would have liked to have known before! I had to hear it from Arya!" Her voice had begun to waver and she forced herself to swallow back her angry tears. "You should have told me yourself."

He gave a half-hearted laugh, "so what if I had? Would you have tried to convince me not to go, to stay here forever as a worthless bastard?"

She looked hurt by his words, though he didn't know why. "You are not worthless, Jon Snow."

He exhaled noisily, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. "I know you believe that, Isobel, but I have to go." His voice had softened, and he put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "It's not enough for me to love you. I'm still a bastard, and you'll always be a Lady."

She opened her mouth, about to retort, when his words dawned on her. Isobel's mouth snapped shut and her face contorted into one of stunned confusion, and he wished more than anything he could take his words back. This was only going to make it harder.

_Wait.._ "You- you love me?"

Jon's face settled into a grimace as he met her eyes. "Yes."

She bit her lip, searching his face desperately. "Oh, Jon.." tears started to prickle in the back of her eyes, and try as she might to blink them away, a few fell and leaked down her cheeks.

He took in a deep breath, reaching up to brush her tears away. She had never seen him look so conflicted, so pained. She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes.

"It's not fair," she croaked. Isobel spoke with so much sorrow and anger, it killed him. He never would have believed that he would ever see her cry. His heart ached more than he had ever thought possible.

Jon leaned down and kissed her urgently. It was passionate, full of longing, but they could each feel the sadness that lied underneath. It was a goodbye.

He pulled her into his chest and tucked her head under his chin, stroking her hair as she cried.

"I know."

* * *

That evening, given that Isobel hadn't come to lunch or dinner, Benjamen thought he might check on his older sister. Strange as it was, the young man had a knack for knowing when she was upset and needed his comfort. And he had a pretty good idea of just what, or really _whom_, was troubling her.

Ben knocked on her door quietly before entering, and what he saw made his heart ache.

Here was his sister, his strong-willed, stubborn sister, laying on her stomach with her red, puffy face buried in a pillow. He shut the door behind him and quickly made his way across the room, taking a seat on the edge of her bed. She sat up and threw her arms around his neck, crying softly into his shoulder. Benjamen hugged her tightly. He assumed she had found out that Jon was leaving for The Wall.

"Bella, I'm so sorry." It was a nickname he had not used since they were children, but the fact that he used it gave her some small comfort. They stayed like that for a long time, and when she finally calmed down enough, she told him all that had happened. He didn't have the heart to tell her he had known for several days.

Despite the fact that he had never known love in his short 13 years, Ben understood what it must feel like to lose that person. He recalled his father looking just as dejected as she did now, when their mother had passed. Though he wished it weren't true, Benjamen knew that his sister would never be with Jon. Their differences in status was not something easily overcome in a place like Westeros; they had lost each other, though both of them were still alive and perfectly well. The boy wondered if that hurt more than having the person you love die.

He unconsciously hugged his sister tighter, his handsome face settling into a grimace.

They sat and talked for a few hours, Benjamen doing his best to cheer her up. He wasn't doing a very good job, but she was a good sport and managed to give him a few smiles. Just when she had started to laugh a bit at some of his jokes, they heard a knock on the chamber door.

A servant entered the room very timidly, bowing her head deeply as she curtsied. She was a rather plain girl, though not homely. She had tawny skin, dark brown hair and eyes and several large freckles across her nose. Isobel recalled that she was one of Sansa's handmaidens, and thought her name might have been Alyce.

"Good eveing milady, m'lord. Your Lord Father wishes to speak with you before bed, Lady Isobel. He asks that you come visit him in his chambers." Isobel sighed, nodding before sending the girl away.

_I suppose it couldn't have been avoided forever._

Benjamen decided to walk with her to Lord Rodrik's chambers, and although she didn't say so, she was very grateful for it. Her brother reached forward and knocked on the door for her, sending her an uneasy look.

"Come in please, Isobel," their father's calm tenor called. Ben gave her hand one last affectionate squeeze before leaving her to speak with their father alone. She took in a deep breath before pushing the door open, mentally preparing herself for one of his dreaded lectures. He never got angry, and that was what she hated the most.

She found her father, as expected, reading at his small table. Without looking up, he motioned for her to sit across from him, though it really wasn't necessary anymore; after 17 years, she knew the drill.

Lord Rodrik had always been a doting father, so much that his late wife had often reprimanded him for spoiling their children. His eldest daughter had always had a very close relationship with him, and while she respected him as her father, she had never felt afraid of him. And as she sat with him in his chambers, in a near suffocating silence, Isobel still did not feel fear.

No, what she was feeling was probably much worse. She would rather him yell at her and be angry then have to go through this; how quiet his voice would get, how soft his expression would be and how he would send her the occasional tiny smile. It drove her mad.

Both of them had yet to say anything. Just when she was about to scream in frustration, her father set the piece of paper he had been reading down and scratched his beard before leaning back in his chair. He studied his daughter for a moment, and she stubbornly refused to meet his eyes.

At first he had thought their kiss was just that, a harmless little kiss. He had been an observer by accident, but he had witnessed enough to know that Isobel had not been taken advantage of in any way. So when he had visited her chamber afterwards, he had only meant to tease her about it while giving her a subtle warning not to let their friendship progress any further.

It had been two weeks since that had happened, and though there had been no other incident to his knowledge, he saw how they interacted. He knew the look that Jon gave his daughter; it was the same one he had given Elayna when they were young and in love. He had to intervene now, though it would break his beloved firstborn's heart.

"Isobel. We both know I have never been a strict parent, especially with you. Your mother and I always put your happiness above all else, so we looked away when you wanted to ride horses and practice archery." He smiled in remembrance, chuckling quietly, "and then there was that entire year you absolutely refused to wear a dress. Your mother and the Septa tried to fight you every morning, but they always gave up." She was staring straight ahead of her, her expression blank. Rodrik sighed, reaching forward to take one of his daughter's hands.

"If I were a better father, you would have been betrothed long ago and married by now. But I knew how you felt about marrying a stranger, and I couldn't bare doing something that would make you so unhappy. And after your dear mother died, I didn't want to give you up."

She finally met his stare, her own green-grey eyes filled with misery, "Papa.."

He held up a finger, gently signaling for her to let him finish. "It was my hope, that you might grow fond of Robb while we visited here. But you never were the type of child to make things easy on your poor old father." She gave him a sad smile, knowing it was true.

"Your 18th nameday will be here before long, and I had hoped that if you grew to like Robb, I could convince you into an engagement with him. But as fate would have it, in the two moons that we have been here, you fell for his baseborn half-brother. And now it looks as if he's going to be engaged soon, to a young Lady from House Frey." She stared down at her lap, and the tiniest part of her had the sudden urge to weep for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. Rodrik ran a thumb across the back of the hand that was still clasped in his, "you know I can't let you be with Jon, sweetheart. I know him to be a good and noble lad, he is every bit Ned's son, but you know I can't."

She nodded, and felt the threatening tears stinging in the back of her eyes. "I know that, Papa. I understand." Her voice wavered slightly, and she cleared her throat, taking a few seconds to compose herself. Isobel thought of Jon, of him leaving to go to the Wall. He had said he loved her, and she him. He had held her while she cried, had kissed her with such love and sorrow. But he was still going. He wouldn't change his mind, and they both knew that there was nothing for them even if he did. "Besides, Jon has decided to take The Black, he leaves in less than a week. Even if the circumstances were not what they are, nothing would change that."

She met her father's eyes again, the tears having been blinked away. Her voice was regal and mature; it was that of a woman whose heart had been broken. Rodrik felt an ache in his chest and he wanted nothing more than to pull her into his lap and protect her from life's horrible realities, as he had when she was little.

She pushed her chair back and stood slowly, and he thought that she had never looked more like Elayna. But the thought did not make him happy as it normally would have. His sweet Isobel looked dejected and cold. "I have been shirking my duties as the acting Lady of House Braeden long enough. I think it's time that we return to Iredale, and I am willing to consider an engagement with anybody that you choose."

**A.N: Ah, the classic tale of young star-crossed lovers. Poor things, it broke my heart writing that. What do you think of her decision? And where in Seven Hells am I going to take this story next? Oh, and I changed the rating to T because it was bothering me. Nothing in this is M material, so it has no business being under that rating.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A.N: Yes friends, I am indeed alive and well. Sorry this took so long. Almost to 50 followers! Thank you everybody who has followed, you are awesome.**

**For the next installment of the story, I have decided to write about Isobel and her family returning to Iredale, and her beginning a courtship with a young lord. Don't freak out though, I have a plan. Everyone's favorite moody bastard will be back.**

Their departure from Winterfell was a terribly gloomy one. After announcing their sudden decision to return to Iredale, Rodrik Braeden's family stayed for only three more days. Isobel and her family stood before Winterfell along with all the Starks, holding the hand of a sniffling Elinor. Lord Stark patted the child's head as she bid Rickon a sad farewell. Lady Catelyn gave each of Rodrik's children an affectionate hug, telling them to keep warm and stay safe on their journey home. Robb shook Ben's hand, telling him to keep practicing his swordsmanship, and exchanged a sad, knowing look with Isobel that made her want to cry. _Why couldn't it have been you? Things would be so much easier if it had just been you._

Sansa was very tearful, promising to write to her as often as possible. Arya stood next to her sister and gave Isobel a very tight hug, looking as somber as anyone had ever seen her; though she was young, she understood the situation, and it killed her. Arya's heart ached for her favorite brother and the girl he loved.

Jon was absent, as he was from most family affairs, and a small part of her was thankful. If he had been there to say goodbye, Isobel would have burst into tears, clinging to him and threatening to never let go. Their encounter in the Godswood had been their goodbye, though neither of them had ever said it. Isobel felt a new wave of sadness wash over as she thought about her black haired bastard boy, images of him flooding her memory; how his dark eyes crinkled when he smiled, how his nose scrunched up when he laughed or the way he would raise one brow when he was teasing her. Though their time together had been fairly short, every bit of her had fallen in love with him. Isobel wondered if she would ever be the same.

When their farewells were over, she took Elinor's hand again and turned to lead her to their carriage, preparing herself for the long journey back to Iredale. She took a few steps, then froze; there, leaning against the forge, was a young man with black curls. His arms were crossed and his face looked solemn, but he managed to give her a sad smile. How ironic, that the last time she would ever see him, was exactly the same as the first.

She held her eyes closed for a moment, forcing the threatening tears to go away. When she opened them, he was still there. She locked eyes with him once more, took in a deep breath, and led Elinor away quickly. Only Rodrik, Ned and Benjamen noticed the silent, subtle goodbye.

Green-grey eyes stared out the window, watching as Jon and the towers of Winterfell began to grow smaller. Hours later, when they were miles away and Elinor was fast asleep, she finally broke, bursting into a fit of silent, shaking sobs.

No, she didn't think she would ever be quite the same.

* * *

The voyage back home to Iredale was a long and torturous one, and the Lord of House Braeden's mind was troubled. He knew his daughter was hurting, but her behavior worried him deeply. The golden-haired maiden spent most of the trip staring out the carriage window, watching the scenery roll by with a blank look on her face. Elinor, who guessed that her big sister was not feeling well, stayed quiet for the most part. Whenever they stopped to make camp, Isobel spoke only a little. Benjamen often tried to engage her in conversation, but she would only give very short and direct answers, though she remained cordial. She didn't even react to her brother's teasing, whereas normally her sharp tongue would have been all too quick to bark out a response.

He noticed her finally start to perk up once the topography of the land started to look familiar. Streams, rolling hills, forests of tall, needle-thin pines and vast fields that were rich with thick, green grasses. Being back home would be good for her, he was sure. Though she had not wanted to leave Winterfell, her heart belonged at Iredale.

The Riverlands were in the very center of Westeros. To the north of them there was The Neck, which was the southernmost part of the North, sworn to House Stark. The Westerlands and a small part of the Iron Islands lied to the west, the Vale of Arryn to the East, and the Reach as well as the Crownlands bordered the south. Iredale was one of the southernmost points pledged under House Tully. It was nestled along the Blackwater Rush, far to the east of Stony Sept. Rodrik's castle stood close to the borders of both the Reach and the Crownlands.

Although the realm had been living in relative peace since Robert's Rebellion, Rodrik did not trust the Lannisters or the Baratheons, so that ruled out the Westerlands and Crownlands. He did not want his daughter living in a region ruled under either of the infamous families. The Vale wouldn't do, either, as it was rumored that Lysa Arryn was half mad. And the North was out of the question. What could be worse than a reminder of her time at Winterfell?

It was possible that he was being too selective due to his reluctance to let Isobel go, but he told himself it was all for her benefit. He could think of no eligible young men from good families in his own region, so he then considered the Reach. Beyond that lied the Stormlands and Dorne, but she would loathe being so far away from home. No, choosing a man from somewhere in the Reach was by far the best option. Isobel had told him she would accept whatever alliance he could form, but he would not ship his own flesh and blood off with no regard for her happiness. He sighed in agitation, running a hand through his thick brown hair. The middle aged man pondered and fretted for hours, and he finally decided on who to write to first. The letter was sent out the next morning, and just a short week later he received an answer. Lord Braeden summoned his first born to inform her of who his preferred choice was.

When she arrived in his room a short while later, he had her sit at the table with him, as was custom for their little talks. He was smiling, certain that he had made a good choice, and overjoyed that the family had gotten back to him so quickly.

_The rumors of my Isobel's beauty and wit have spread,_ he thought with pride.

"Hello sweetheart. I trust you have settled back in well?" She nodded, taking his hand when he offered it. "Ah, I'm glad to hear it. I'm amazed Mia let you out of her site; the poor mutt must have missed you something fierce." Isobel laughed, nodding in agreement, surprised that her beloved dog had not followed her up to her father's room. He grinned, happy to see her in better spirits now that they were back home.

"I've called you hear to discuss a courtship with a young Lord from Goldengrove, a castle in the northwestern part of the Reach. Mathis Rowan is a good man, and his oldest son Willem is not even three years your senior. I wrote to him and he accepted the offer to arrange a visit right away."

Isobel kept a straight face, listening intently to her father. She considered all that he had told her; this man was young, came from a good, reputable house and his family's seat was not that far away. Her father had made a very practical choice all while taking her own wishes into consideration. She was beyond thankful for that. "What all do you know about him? Willem, that is."

Rodrik leaned back, pondering for a moment. "I hear he looks very much like his mother's brother, which is good news for you," he winked and gave her a grin. "Other than that, I know only what his father has told me. He writes that he is a renowned scholar and quite fond of riding as well as hunting."

She nodded, taking her father's words into consideration. He was handsome, which, although not important, definitely agreed with her. And, if what Lord Mathis said was true, he was smart, and active. Though she was still in love with Jon Snow and thought of him almost constantly, she had to put him behind her. Isobel knew that her father could not have picked a better suitor, and despite her broken heart, she had no good reason to refuse.

Taking in a deep breath, she turned in her chair to face her father, giving him a small smile. "Alright. How soon will they be coming to stay with us?"

* * *

At last, after almost a fortnight, the long anticipated visitors were going to arrive. Lord Mathis and his son were the only members of House Rowan that were able to come. The Lady Bethany was apparently a rather sickly woman whom traveling did not agree with, and her daughter was left behind to care for her. The younger son, of course, had to stay to act as Lord of Goldengrove in his father and brother's absence. The Braedens stood at the front of their stronghold, anxiously awaiting the small party.

A group of about a dozen men approached, and Isobel thought both the Lords very brave to come with so few soldiers. When they finally stopped after coming through the gateway, father and son descended from their mounts. Isobel was rather taken aback.

_Papa said Willem was good-looking, but I wasn't expecting him to be quite so handsome._

Mathis was a slightly aged man of average height. His hair had turned grey and he had dull dark brown eyes, but wore a grin as wide as a river. She then took a moment to study his son, noting that there was only a slight resemblance. Willem was taller than his father, but they had similar builds and the same square jaw. He had lively hazel eyes and a crop of thick, dark copper hair.

Mathis approached Lord Braeden first, shaking his hand firmly with a wide grin. "Ah, Rodrik my friend! How nice it is to finally be here. Your lands are far more serene than we had even hoped." Her father chuckled and returned the gesture with gusto before releasing the older man's arm. "Mathis, how wonderful it is to have you here. Come and meet my children."

As was his habit, he introduced Elinor first, who was of course very shy, then Benjamen, who Isobel could see was trying to appear mature and virile. When her father reached for her she took his arm and stepped forward, a calm and slightly timid smile gracing her full, pink lips.

"And of course, here is my lovely Isobel," she curtsied to them both. Mathis bowed his head and muttered some generic, polite greeting, before his son stepped forward. Willem took her hand, pressing a chaste kiss to her knuckles with a smile, hazel eyes never leaving her own.

"My Lady, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, and to be here in the home of your family." Bowing her head with a kind smile, she met his eyes again.

"The pleasure is ours entirely, my Lord."

**A.N: For the most part I tried to keep everything canon. All of the geography is pretty accurate, and there really is a Lord Mathis Rowan of Goldengrove. This story has gone off in a different direction than I expected, but the plot bunnies do as they please. Next chapter will feature a letter from Sansa. Pretty please let me know what you think and leave some reviews!**


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